Sister Kenny (1946)

September 30, 1946

THE SCREEN IN REVIEW; At the Globe

By BOSLEY CROWTHER

Published: September 30, 1946

There is virtually a standard pattern for the making of screen biographies about persons who have labored in high causes against reaction and bigotry. Within this standard pattern, the protagonist is always right and good, while the antagonists are generally cold, inhuman and wrong. This is the pattern which Dudley Nichols and Rosalind Russell elected to use in the making of "Sister Kenny," now on the Palace screen.

As a consequence, their representation of the life of Elizabeth Kenny, the Australian nurse who developed a method for treating infantile paralysis, becomes a deliberate manufacture of emotional blacks and whites, with the good feelings favoring Sister Kenny and the bad feelings turned against her foes. Everything done by Sister Kenny in this affectionate biography is designed to draw warmest admiration to her and to the method she promotes. Everything done by her opponents, symbolized and dramatized in this film by one particular doctor, makes them look like inhuman dolts.

In this way, Mr. Nichols and Miss Russell have easily achieved a rich and inspiring biography along conventional dramatic lines. From the moment that the youthful Nurse Kenny first lays her untutored hands upon the limbs of youngster suffering from polio, far out in the Australian "bush," and heals the child, with hot compresses and by moving the limbs, she is in. From that moment on, all her battles with the inflexible Dr. Brack, who refuses to acknowledge her therapy, are but dramatic clashes between medical progress and reaction of the cruelest sort.

Furthermore, Mr. Nichols has cleverly—and most dramatically—stacked the cards in favor of Sister Kenny by presenting for all to see one of her healed and healthy patients in contrast with a twisted, trussed-up tot. He has played the most gripping contention between Sister Kenny and Dr. Brack over the pitiful figure of a youngster lying on a table in an amphitheatre. And he has put into the story a probably fictitious but sure-fire device; he has had Sister Kenny reject a suitor so she can pursue her healing career.

In its subject matter and construction, "Sister Kenny" is a quite impressive film, fascinating in its discourse and moving in its appeal. And Miss Russell plays the title character with tremendous vitality and warmth. At least, in the early, youthful phases she makes the nurse a genuine sort. Made up towards the end to look like something between George Washington and Ethel Barrymore, she is less good. The late Philip Merivale is excellent—cold and dignified and severe—as Dr. Brack, and a winning performance of a sympathetic doctor is played by Alexander Knox. Dean Jagger does as well as possible in the plainly extraneous role of Sister Kenny's suitor, and Doreen McCann is very touching as a tot. As straight inspirational entertainment, this film is in the high-powered class.

But it is simply because it does use dodges that go straighter to the heart than to the head that this reviewer questions its methods. Disregardful entirely of the dispute that exists among medical practitioners over the Kenny theories and treatments as such (and, indeed, the issue in this picture is over ethics more than therapy, it seems), we question the kindness of implying that the Kenny treatments do not fail, that sufferers from poliomyelitis could be cured if doctors would only be less dense. To our mind, this film carries an unfair and dangerous impression in its zeal. It darkens too much the surroundings by bathing Sister Kenny in a clear and shining light.

With the voice of the politician beginning to be heard in the land, "Mr. Ace," which came to the Globe on Saturday, should, at least, have been a welcome primer in politics. But truth to tell, this film treatise on the seamier side of candidates and elections for high office does not reveal anything not known heretofore nor does its rather obvious story about the regeneration of its principals, a Congresswoman and a political boss, make for exciting or convincing drama. As the boss, George Raft opines in a visionary moment, "Never promise the voters more than they believe they can get." The film, however, does promise much in some believable acting but delivers little else.

As the rich Congresswoman anxious for the Gubernatorial nomination of an unnamed State, Sylvia Sidney does make her share of the slowly-paced story believable. Beautiful, intelligent and politically wise, she is even willing to compromise with Raft in order to attain her ends. But a threatened divorce action by her husband in which Raft is to be named as corespondent stymies her ambitious plans. At this point, strangely enough, Raft, a hard man, who already has averred that "beautiful women don't belong in politics," suddenly says adieu to his shady calling to silently back Miss Sidney on an independent reform ticket. And, with a little double-crossing here and there by Raft, the lady wins the governorship and the boss.

As a political science professor and friend and adviser of Miss Sidney. Roman Bohnen, easily gives the best performance of the cast, his counselor being at once a gruff, sage and understanding personality. While her role may have been patterned after persons living, Miss Sidney does not borrow her characterization. She is a grasping woman, but she can be moved by love, and her portrayal is warm and sincere. George Raft, on the other hand, is merely blunt and laconic as the boss who is swayed by true romance. Sid Silvers, as Raft's henchman, and Stanley Ridges and Jerome Cowan, as scheming politicians, lend little weight to the possibility that "Mr. Ace" might change either the political or film scenes.

Good news should not be unnecessarily delayed in the telling, so let's come right to the point of this notice. "The Welldigger's Daughter" is just about the most delightful French comedy-drama that has come this way since the memorable "The Baker's Wife." In fact, it might even be said without the slightest intention of detracting from the ample merit of this new film, which had its première on Saturday at the new Avenue Playhouse, Avenue of the Americas and Forty-seventh Street, that the motivation of both pictures is far from dissimilar. For Raimu is again playing a simple French peasant whose honor and dignity is compromised by a feminine indiscretion, committed in this instance by one of his six motherless daughters.

That this should be so is not surprising, considering that "The Welldigger's Daughter" was written, directed and produced by Marcel Pagnol, also of "The Baker's Wife" cinematic fame. Raimu, who died recently in Paris, once said in an interview that he liked working with Pagnol because "his genius lies in his ability to take the public from laughter to tears and back again in a flash." And that is just what "The Welldigger's Daughter" manages with wondrous dexterity, after a rather halting beginning. The story is no great shakes in outline, being simply a tale about an innocent country maiden who is seduced and left with child by the dashing son of prosperous merchant. The young man goes off to war as an aviator and the girl is turned out by her outraged father to protect the innocence of his other little girls.

It is the way this framework has been embellished by the facile writing of M. Pagnol and the brilliant acting of Raimu that makes "The Welldigger's Daughter" a distinguished accomplishment. For Raimu, no less than Pagnol, had a genius for turning with complete naturalness from laughter to tears. His characterization of Pascal, the master welldigger, is expertly proportioned and runs the gamut of emotions. The quiet dignity of his speech and manner as he confronts the aviator's parents on the subject of his daughter's condition is one of the most compassionate and moving scenes ever filmed. And it will indeed be a hard heart that will not give vent to a tear when Pascal, his honor finally restored, receives the boy's parents with I great dignity and formality when they come to apologize and ask his daughter's hand in marriage.

We suspect it is the frankness with which the situation is presented and discussed by the characters that gives the film its nobility of purpose. "The Welldigger's Daughter" runs close to two hours and, as we said away back, it has a tendency to drag because it takes Mr. Pagnol some time to get his story under way. But after that, the rest is a sheer delight. Josette Day is appealing as the erring daughter and Fernandel, as a distant suitor and family friend, has several deliciously comic scenes. George Grey as the young man and Charpin as his father contribute well-rounded performances, as do several others in lesser roles.

With its few faults—the photography is bad here and there—"The Welldigger's Daughter" still is one of the very best pictures to come out of France and, indeed this spectator does not hesitate to place it on a par with "The Baker's Wife."